


Abundant Solace

by eurekaa



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Coming of Age, Fluff and Humor, Gen, it is what it says on the tin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 06:39:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14350014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eurekaa/pseuds/eurekaa
Summary: Some short scenarios on Corrin's life in the Northern Fortress





	1. One's Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> finally made an ao3, so i figured i'd cross-post some stuff from my ffn. scenarios are short 'n sweet, and i may or may not write more in the future. we'll see.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her charge is growing older; Flora muses about some things on the job.

Her hair was pale, thick, and wild—curling every which way, almost as if to spite gravity. Flora sighed and fussed as she brushed the knots out. “Milady, surely you wouldn’t mind a braid, at least?”

Corrin’s refusal was quick and vehement. “I like wearing it free! Putting it up gives me head aches.”

“Just as shoes pinch your toes, and corsets upset your stomach…” Corrin puckered her lips in a long-practiced pout, but the look faded once she noticed Flora’s small smile.

Lord Silas was to visit today, so the young princess’ energy was understandable. She had such little company beyond her servants in the fortress—the poor thing was dying of loneliness. Many a night Jakob would rush into her quarters to ease her out of her night terrors, wailing like a babe stolen from her mother.

 _Just_ like a babe stolen from her mother.

None of this ever reached Xander’s ears.

“And I’ll never wear corsets—I’m going to become a warrior when I grow up, just like big brother, so I’ll have armor on all the time!”

The thought of little Corrin wielding a blade against the Ice Tribe had Flora’s fingers turning stiff. The brush clattered to the ground. She whispered an apology as she stooped to retrieve it.

“Milady, your morning tea is ready.” Jakob announced as he entered, his face immediately brightening at the sight of her. Ruby eyes flickered to the ceramic pot; Flora gave up in her endeavor to tame her charge’s mane.

Like a beast released from its cage, Corrin ran to Jakob with an eagerness only children possessed. He’d crafted the brew especially for her—a light, floral scent permeated the chamber as she was sat down.

The navy gown was lax and undecorated, as per the princess’ wishes. It allowed the freedom of movement that she so desperately needed, the looseness around the hips and flared sleeves giving her the look of a schoolgirl. Flora snuck a hairband onto her head as she took her first sip of tea. Corrin frowned.

“Practice,” Flora explained, “for a crown.”

Corrin’s grin was brighter than the sun.

Silas’ arrival was announced not long after. Corrin took the worn steps three or four at a time as she rushed to him, laughter like the peal of bells. They shared a quick embrace before she was barraging him with questions—what did the wind feel like that day, how did the grass and trees and flowers smell, did the horses behave; Silas answered them all in stride, whispering his answers like they were secrets, like they were magic words. Corrin drank in each one of his responses, eyes wide and jaw slack. Jakob stalked not far behind them, regarding her almost reverently.

Flora busied herself with other things to ease the tightness in her chest.


	2. Past Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silas spirits Corrin away for an afternoon

The graying trees were spindly and hunched over like old men in pain. The leaves were an inky violet—they hung like funeral wreaths off gnarled branches.

The sun sat low on the horizon, dyeing the sky a dark, resplendent ruby. The clouds gathered along the line of mountains, bundled and heaving, swathes of shimmering orange silk.

The wind carried a heavy scent—wood rot and earth and damp.

She loved it.

Her feet sank into the underbrush; moss stuck between her toes. She shrieked with delight at the sensation.

Silas laid out thick furs for them to lounge on, and from a woven basket retrieved hot sweet cakes, salted jerky and mashed fruit preserves and seasoned potatoes. They ate with their hands and laughed over the mess.

Corrin climbed every tree in sight as Silas went on and on about the flora and fauna. He told her a childrens’ story about a bird and a mouse, a wise man and a greedy noble. His voice was strong and carried easily. She ran her fingers over cracked bark, marveled at the little veins that webbed each of the leaves. She gloried in the feel of the gale in her hair, whipping pale tresses into her eyes and bringing fresh color to her cheeks.

She leapt to the ground, stood as tall as she was able, reached up to the sky and imagined that it was just out of her reach, barely scraping the glassy rim that separated their world from the heavens.

Putting her gratitude into words felt cheap and insincere—how could she articulate thanks for the gift Silas had given her? Instead, she locked arms with him, smiled so wide her lips cracked and filled the air with her laughter, her joy.

The mere moments seemed to last for eternity. The sun drowned in the far distance, the moon rose high above, the sky was stained indigo and stars sputtered to life. The breeze became harsh and chill, and caught in her throat. The breath in her lungs frosted over, splintered into millions of shards of ice—the kind that Flora and Felicia put to her face when she was loathe to rise in the morning. Silas wrapped her in a heavy cloak that smelled of musk, and lead her back to the Northern Fortress.

No one shared her mirth.


	3. You of the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crown Prince Xander visits the Northern Fortress

Xander dismounted his steed and smoothed out the cloth on his front. It was unclean after many hard days of travel on the road, and his muscles ached from riding. Behind him, Peri and Laslow followed him to the ground, the sound of their weapons rattling familiar. The soldiers guarding the gate to the Northern Fortress rushed forward to greet him, fists over their breasts and bowing low. “Your Royal Highness! It is unlike you to arrive unannounced.”

“You may rise.” He said, and they lifted their heads. “I had time after an errand, and I was in the area. How does my sister fare?”

“Very well, Sir. The paragon of health and vigor.”

He nodded appreciatively. “Good news. Fetch someone to bring our horses round to the stable, my retainers and I would like to rest a bit. We’ve been journeying a long while.”

“Of course, Sir!”

A stablehand he’d never seen before rushed forward to guide the horses—despite her slim frame, she skillfully handled the war beasts, her voice rendering them docile. He couldn’t see her face very well, hidden as it was under her kerchief, but he could have sworn her eyes were as gold as all the treasures in the coffers back home.

The soldiers ushered him and his company inside and called for the steward, whom lead them to a well-decorated drawing room and entertained them until the baths were drawn and ready.

Despite himself, Xander soaked for quite a while, head leaning against the rim of the porcelain tub and eyes closed. The hot water and bath oils stripped away weeks of grime and weariness. After affording himself that luxury, he quickly rinsed off. A maid brought him a fresh set of clothes and his crown, newly polished, and brought him to the dining room. A mirthful fire roared in the hearth, brightening and warming the space. Laslow and Peri were standing at attention, waiting for him.

“I take it you’re all washed up and relaxed, Your Royal Highness?” Laslow jested. Xander merely grunted in reply. Peri, her hair up in a single plait, hid her laugh behind a hand. Dressed demurely as she was, in a simple but dignified gown with a shawl over her shoulders, he wouldn’t have known her to be as gleeful a killer as she was.

The maids set the table and had them seated, lighting candles and pouring steaming tea for the guests. The door at the other end of the room opened, and Xander was delighted to finally lay eyes upon a familiar face.

“Gunter! You look well.”

The old soldier scoffed even as he bowed. “Please, withhold the pleasantries. It is good to see you, healthy and in youth’s splendor. What brings you here?”

“Father had sent me to settle a border dispute. A minor affair, truly.”

He heard Peri scoff behind him, but chose to ignore the breach of conduct. Gunter nodded jovially. “And I’m sure you did fine work, milord.” After properly greeting the Prince, Gunter turned to the retainers. “Sir Laslow, Lady Peri. I trust you’re in good spirits.”

“I’ve never been better, Sir Gunter.” Laslow replied, smiling politely.

Xander had the presence of mind to give Peri a hard look before she answered. “I am well, Sir.”

“Good! I’m glad.” Gunter took his seat at the table, and the four engaged in pleasant conversation until the food was brought out.

Skillfully roasted lamb was served alongside freshly baked bread and pungent cheese, followed shortly by sliced vegetables adorned with a fragrant dressing, honeyed biscuits, and stuffed duck—all accompanied by a dark, sweet wine. The food was hot and spread out before them, but they patiently abstained.

A tall butler with light hair bowed deeply and opened the door. “I present Princess Corrin.”

Xander’s heart swelled as she entered the room.

Hair like moonlight tumbled over her shoulders and down her back, beautifully catching the light. Her face was open, her expression innocent and cheeks warm, recently washed. She wore a gown of minimal intricacy, a royal blue to rival the evening sky. Her neck was adorned with silver, her hands in silk gloves. She was the picture of royalty—

Until she lifted her skirts to curtsy, exposing her bare feet. “Good evening, Big Brother! I’m so glad you could visit!”

One of the maids, a ruby nestled in the hollow of her neck, rushed forward immediately. “Milady, _where_ are your shoes?”

Corrin smiled so very wide. “I’ve told you, Flora, I can’t stand them!”

“But—“ The maid remembered herself and whom she was in the presence of, and relented. She bowed deeply before stepping back, beside the rest of the servants.

And so the feast began.

As Lady of the house, Corrin sat at the head of the table, with Xander opposite her as her guest. Laslow and Peri flanked him, whilst to Corrin’s right sat Gunter, and to her left her governess. The food was superb, and Xander and his retainers expressed as much, as was proper. Corrin was able to act respectably, for the most part—when she became too excited a stern look from the maids and her governess helped her recover. The Prince felt pride for his lovely younger sister.

After dinner, they retired to the drawing room. The maids used scented logs for the fire, while the butler provided more tea, and hard biscuits to accompany it. The governess was the first to retire, taking the majority of the servants with her. Xander’s retainers bade good night shortly after, leaving only the Prince, Gunter, Corrin, and her personal servants.

Xander had been providing Gunter with information on the castle’s condition, as well as the state of the army and the flow of politics. Weary-eyed, Corrin asked, “Big Brother, why was there a border dispute? Who did you meet? What happened?”

He was haunted by her questions. As a warrior and general—no, as Crown Prince, he should explain to her fully the villages harboring insurgents, and the execution orders handed down by King Garon. She was destined to hold a sword; it would be better for her to know of these things.

Yet, as her brother, he felt obligated to still his tongue. He smiled kindly to her. “It is too late for such talk, little Princess. Look at the hour! I’m rather surprised you’re still awake.”

Corrin raised an eyebrow in suspicion, and was about to object before the butler stepped forward. “Milady, His Royal Highness speaks true. You’ll be too exhausted to see off the Crown Prince tomorrow.”

She gasped. “I’d all but forgotten!” She turned back to Xander. “Must you leave so early?”

Her tone broke his heart, but he held firm. “Yes, I’m sorry Corrin. This visit was unscheduled, anyhow. It would be irresponsible of me to dawdle.”

Her face fell. “I understand.” She stood and curtseyed. “Good night, Big Brother.”

“Sleep well, little Princess.”

She smiled at that, wide and true. And then she was gone.

Xander donned his armor and went out under the moonlight to swing his blade. So concentrated was he, that he never noticed the candle sitting in the window of the highest tower, or the figure leaning on the sill.


End file.
